


Another Win

by Meowser_Clancy



Category: Ghost Whisperer
Genre: Anticipation, Arms, Baseball, F/M, Muscles, Waiting, back, home run
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 11:42:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7800499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meowser_Clancy/pseuds/Meowser_Clancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shortly after the events in 2x10: Giving Up the Ghost, Melinda decides that it's time for Jim to take up baseball again. Written for David Conrad's 49th birthday, which is today, August 17. ♥♥♥</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Win

Sometime after Jim's home run, Melinda lay awake, his arms tossed over her. "Hey, Jim," she said softly, and he grunted to show that he was still awake, if only just barely.

"Yeah, Mel?" He finally said, turning his head.

"Why don't you play baseball anymore?" She asked. "If you had so much fun as a kid; if you have so much fun watching it. Surely some place there's a team you could join."

He chuckled into the bed; sleepy and sinful, a sound that made Melinda's belly stir with lust. "Yes, the firehouse has a team," he began. "Usually they just play against the police station and there's a game at the end of the season...the loser has to…" His voice trailed off in a huge yawn. "Why are you asking?"

"Well, it might be fun to see you play again," Melinda said.

He propped himself up on one sleepy elbow. "Melinda, last year I suggested this very thing and you said, and I quote, I can think of so many things I'd rather be doing that wilting away watching you play baseball. It's just what you said."

"Well, I didn't know how much you liked it back then," Melinda began. "I mean, I knew Ryan Adam's average batting score thing or whatever was 313, but I didn't know you yourself liked to play too."

Even as she said the words, she realized what a mistake she was making; surely she would die of boredom at a game that could easily last three hours, on a hot Saturday afternoon that...yes...they could surely find better activities for that time slot.

But it was too late. "It's funny you mention it; Bobby's out of town this weekend and the team needs a sub," Jim said. "Maybe I'll see if they still do." He smiled at her, eyes crinkling, and leaned to press a kiss to her bare shoulder.

"Good night again," she breathed, and he nodded.

"Good night, Mel," he whispered, and settled back into the mattress, fast asleep in moments.

She lay awake for a few minutes after, gently stroking one muscular shoulder before rolling onto her side, folding her body onto his, and falling asleep.

* * *

She knew she'd made a mistake when she woke up on Saturday and groaned, rolling over and pulling a pillow over her head.

Jim was already up; she could hear him whistling as he showered. There was practice from 9-10 this morning, and the game was going to start at 3.

She groaned again. At least it wasn't a night game. She honestly had no idea why she'd ever suggested it. Because as much fun as it had been last week to go to the games, baseball just wasn't her thing, and she knew it.

Too much of it would make her go crazy, ruin the game for her. Even if it was Jim.

She heard him exit the bathroom, and suddenly his weight was dipping the mattress; he was pulling the pillow off of her head and out of her grip, smiling down her with a touch of puzzlement. "What's up?" He asked, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder.

And god, she loved this man, and just wanted to spend all day in bed with him, and knew that if she tried she could convince him, but he'd made a commitment and now they had to honor it.

He was bare but for the towel on his hips, leaving no collar or tie for Melinda to grab hold of; she put her hands on slick shoulders and just pulled him down; he made a sound of surprise, but kissed her, immediately recognizing her intent. His lips moved over hers, she heard his surprised moan and tangled her legs with his, getting the towel off.

And then he paused, pulling away, eyes dark, pupils fat in his blue eyes. "I've got practice at nine," he said, his lips getting distracted by a spot of skin; he leaned down a placed a long kiss to the valley between her breasts. "I would have woken you up earlier if I knew that I'd get this kind of welcome."

He slid off the bed, walking to his closet; Melinda sat up in bed and watched him closely as he dressed, until he finally chuckled.

"That's not fair, Mel," he whispered, walking back over and kissing her again.

"Five minutes," she breathed, and kissed him back. "We just need five minutes. We can both come in that time."

The challenge was overwhelming him, and his lips were fierce against hers, her hands sliding over muscled shoulders in his gray t-shirt, holding him to her.

"It's 8:45 now," he said. "I need to eat something and if there's traffic it's ten minutes to the field."

He pulled away from her, pulling jeans on, tying on sneakers. "Do you want to come watch us practice?" He offered. "You're the one who suggested this baseball thing in the first place."

She sighed, sagging back on the bed. "I know," she said. "But I changed my mind."

"Well, keep acting like this and I will too," he said, gaze flicking over her seductive pose. "But I told them I could take Bobby's spot."

"Just go," she said. "Leave me here."

She could see how torn he was, and smiled at him. "I'm going into the shop," she said. "Meet me there for lunch?"

His lips curled into a smile. "You know it," he breathed and gave her one last kiss before leaving.

* * *

She showered after he left, feeling a bit sulky, pulling her hair into a high, bouncy ponytail once she'd finished blowdrying it, knowing that Jim loved ponytails on her. Knowing she loved it when Jim loved it.

Oh god did she love it then. The heat of his gaze.

She dressed simply; jeans and a red and white henley, a true baseball shirt, in her mind, slipping into flat sneakers because she wasn't going to wear heels to see a baseball game and didn't feel much like stopping back at the house...unless Jim wanted to.

Her cheeks heated, she walked a little slower to her car. She wanted him. She wanted her husband like she could only rarely remember wanting him, desperate, so hard it was almost an ache, and so much of it was just sexual.

Just.

It was never 'just' with Jim.

Sex didn't just mean hooking up. Sex meant tender words, warm arms, feeling his life force against hers. Sex meant exchanging their deepest feelings, bad and good. Sex meant being closer to him than she had ever been with another person in her life before he'd come along.

And she was getting distracted again; halfway to work, and someone was hitting their car horn behind her in impatience.

* * *

Delia was out front, and Melinda stayed mostly in the back, pretending she was doing inventory, mostly sitting there daydreaming about getting Jim alone...and not about when she'd get to spend three miserable hours—or more!—in the blazing sun, watching him play baseball.

It was official. She was insane.

She startled awake from a very vivid daydream involving Jim coming for lunch to find that it was just past one and Delia was poking her head into the back of the shop. "Hey, Melinda?" She called and Melinda looked at the clock in shock.

"I thought Jim was coming to the ship to meet you for lunch?" Delia said. "At, like, noon and it's past one?"

"I thought he was too," Melinda said. "Sorry, I got caught in a daydream, it's an off day."

She grabbed her phone. They had said they'd meet at the shop, right? And even if she hadn't been at a restaurant—they hadn't picked one!—Jim knew enough to just come look for her if she was late.

Damn it.

She dialed his number, smiling at Delia and watched as her friend moved back into the shop to give her privacy. And, thankfully, a customer came in, granting Melinda even more privacy.

"Hey, Mel."

"Jim," she greeted, surprised by his calmness. "Hey, where are you? I thought we were gonna meet at the shop. For lunch."

"I was coming over there," Jim said. "But Phil's truck broke down and I couldn't leave him stranded. I tried calling you, but the line was busy."

"Wait, so where are you?" Melinda asked, puzzled.

"I'm back at the diamond, I let Phil take my truck," Jim said.

"Wait, what?" Melinda asked.

"His wife was having a bit of a meltdown, and I said he could go ahead and take mine," Jim said. "No one else was offering, I just felt bad, and I knew that you'd be coming by later to watch so I decided to just hang here, get some extra practice in."

"Have you had lunch?" Melinda asked, voice and heart softening, because, god, this was so like Jim.

"A bit," he said. "Nothing substantial."

"Well, don't go anywhere," she warned. "I'm bringing you some."

"That sounds so good right now," Jim said, chuckling; there was the sound of rustling, like he'd moved farther away. "All I could think about was how you looked in bed this morning, Mel. How you didn't want me to go." His voice was deepening, roughening; her stomach was tightening and she was clinging to the edge of the counter. "I want to see you before the game. Five minutes."

"Five minutes," she whispered in agreement.

"Just be here," he said.

* * *

She knew that she was, by some standards, the hot wife, the one that brought her husband lunch in sexy little outfits but it honestly didn't feel like that. It just felt normal, right; all she knew was that sometimes, she couldn't wait to see Jim again, and if having a quicker time with him meant wearing a lower cut shirt…

She almost stopped by the house to change, but didn't want to waste a minute as she got lunch, wanting to screw everything and go to McDonald's but Jim hated the burgers there, even if he didn't mind the ice cream.

He'd want something he could chew.

She stopped by Justin's Bar and got a burger to go; a shake for herself on the ride over; that way she could taste sweet when he kissed her.

Even if from the way he talked, she always tasted sweet.

Every part.

She moaned, feeling so damn impatient, blazing through a yellow light and finally arriving at the baseball diamond, putting her car into park and jumping out with the food in hand.

Jim had seen her car, he was walking to greet her and fuck he looked good right now. Strong and tall, long legs carrying him swiftly over, arms closing around her and the bag of food all in one, pressing a kiss to her lips. "I missed you," he chuckled. "I saw you this morning."

"That's too long," Melinda agreed, clinging to him, their lips meeting once again; a third time.

"Mm, you got me Justin's, thank you," he breathed it in, holding her hand tight as they walked over to the picnic shelter.

"The quarter pounder, with fries, and I know you would have preferred onion rings but I'm not that hungry and I want to be able to kiss you," she said.

His eyebrow raised, and then he kissed her again, long and deep. "You drank the milkshake on the way over, I knew it," he whispered, laughing into her mouth, until they both moaned and he broke away, eating slowly, taking his time to admire her and savor the food.

"You don't have to eat that slowly," she urged, placing a hand on his thigh. "Pretty soon we're going to lose those five minutes."

He almost choked on the burger, taking a quick sip of iced tea, eyes burning into her. "I was thinking about that, and there really isn't any place to do that here, the bleachers are wide open."

"My car?" She offered weakly; there was a spot of mustard on his lip and she reached to wipe it off with her thumb, as he had done so many years ago when they'd met.

God, it was electrifying to replay that moment, to repeat it, albeit flipped. But who was she kidding, this was almost better.

He was staring at her, blue eyes so cool, and yet on fire in the same moment, and he was moving in, their lips so close that their breaths intermingled, and he kissed her, bringing her lower lip into his mouth, sucking on it, his tongue sweeping against hers, caressing her mouth.

"Clancy! Come on!"

Moment over.

"The game cannot possibly be starting yet," Melinda managed to gasp. Damn, she hated baseball.

"I have to run," Jim said. "And on the way, think of very cold showers...my mother...my grandmother...anything but you."

Just for that, she placed a hand on his thigh; he jumped as though burned. "Please, Mel," he hissed, his eyes flashing, promising that she'd get what was coming to her later, much later, in the bedroom.

God, she couldn't wait.

* * *

It seemed to take such a long time to start, Melinda's eyes were glazing over, when the pitchers finally switched and it was Jim running onto the field.

He was warming up, swinging his arm, and she felt her eyes widen, breath shorten, the itch between her thighs grow considerably stronger.

The play of muscles in his back was incredible, and how it made Melinda was feel was...more incredible.

She shifted her thighs together, sighing in the back of her throat, and then realized what exactly she was in for:

Getting to watch Jim move like this for the rest of the night.

She was so in.

His legs were strong, powerful, long, as he ran to the bases, tagging out the batter.

His swings were amazing, and his back...god, she couldn't stop fixating on his back and how damn good it was to know that he was hers.

And he was happy. So fucking happy.

His teammates were cheering him on, clapping him on the back after a good play, and Melinda's heart was warming. This was what baseball was. Friendship, hard work, a good game played.

He glanced over at her, grinning, and she waved back, blowing him a kiss; once she had his attention, she snaked her other hand over her thighs, thoroughly distracting him, but he was back on the bench; she didn't feel guilty about it at all.

And he was just staring, and Melinda mouthed the words, and he smiled, slow and steady, licking his lips as a teammate spoke to him, finally turning back to the game.

And this was what baseball was, waiting, tortuous, but oh, the homerun they'd hit tonight would be more than worth it.

* * *

The game ended on a high note, and Melinda, wanting to run to Jim's side, instead deliberately started to her car, meeting his gaze, pulling him away from the crowd.

And he was at her side again, arm around her waist, and they were hurrying to the car.

"I'm driving," she said, his arm dragging from around her, and she kissed his hand before running to the other side of the car, so impatient.

He placed his hand on her thigh as they drove; warm, possessive, so big.

She lifted it to her mouth at a red light, pressed a kiss to one, long finger, holding it tight in her smaller hand.

"Drive faster," Jim rasped, and they were flying over the roads, finally pulling into the driveway, stumbling into the house and slamming the door closed behind them, the sweetness of anticipation making this so much better.

She took her shirt off, and he took off his, making her moan, deep in her throat, at the play of muscles when he did so.

She kicked her sneakers off; so did he, their pants followed and then he couldn't wait any longer, swinging her up into his arms, carrying her up the stairs to their room, and once there, they settled on the bed, panting, kissing, trying to give so much, trying to take, so much.

His hands were on her bra, dragging it off, his lips were on her breasts, and she almost cried out from the heat of him.

This.

This was what she loved, what she yearned for when they were apart.

This feeling of union, of how they both wanted it, of how they were equal, how they both gave and took pleasure, became one.

She scraped her hands over his chest, running to wind her arms around him, press him closer to her, as if by doing so her body could swallow up some of his essence, always have a part of him to carry around with her.

And they were finally fully naked and he was arching into her, filling her, and she couldn't imagine things getting better than this.

She kissed his shoulder, his neck, his jaw, his lips, over and over, until they both came, shuddering into each other, and then they were quiet.

Jim's hands were playing with her hair, smoothing over her body from her breasts to her hips. "I love you," he said, pressing a hot kiss to her breasts.

"I can't even imagine what life was like before I loved you," she whispered in return. "I've just got one more request."

"Anything," he rasped, stirring to life where he was still inside her.

"Give me another home run," she requested.

"That...will not be a problem," he said, doing just what she'd asked, his body stirring to life over hers, fingers and mouth moving in tandem, hands everywhere, mouth hot and hungry.

She clutched him to her, forever in awe of how much this man meant to her. Jim. Always Jim.

She brought her legs up, wrapping them tight around his waist, whispering the words as he took her there, again; the second time that night, but not the last time. "I love you," she breathed.

And she did.


End file.
